23. Tamara #2
I fire a bullet into his chest before he can react.
Blood spurts from the raggedy hole in his shirt, and he fires his gun straight back at me in response.
His bullet lodges in my upper arm as I lunge sideways and I swallow the flare of orange pain to fire a second bullet into his left side.
A third hits his thigh as I land on my shoulder.
But he’s still on his feet.
Still staring at me the way he did when I was eight years old, like I was only put on this planet to put money into his bank account.
He hovers over me, swaying, his gun hand trembling so badly he raises his other hand to hold it still. Then I notice the bloody saliva collecting in the corner of his mouth, and it gives me the final boost of energy that I need to finish him.
The gunfire outside the room is getting louder and closer.
It’s time to end this.
I stand up slowly, our eyes locked, ignoring his disturbing blood-speckled smile.
“You think you’ve won, don’t you?” He has switched to Russian. “But you’re the one who will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”
I smile and respond in Russian. “And do you know what I will see? I will see people who love me.”
His smile fades slowly. A cough erupts like a biscuit crumb coming back up. His shoulders jerk, and in the half-second that he is distracted by the bloody phlegm coming from his mouth, I find my knife and plunge it into his chest.
His finger closes around the trigger of his gun as he goes down, but the bullet hits the ceiling, way off target. His body twitches on the floor, but his glazed eyes remain focused on me.
“That was for my sister.” I swallow the boulder in my throat when I think about Ivana.
“Seventeen years ago, when you punched a little girl in the head and made her deaf in one ear, I promised I would never let anything bad happen to her again. Because of you, I broke that promise, but now I’m putting it right. ”
He raises a shaky hand and points his gun at me.
And I turn around and walk away.
Finn’s eyes search me when I open the door and step outside. He waited. Aiden isn’t there, and I hear the gunfire coming from above our heads, but Finn is right here where he said he would be.
He spots the blood on my arm and swoops in, holding my elbows to keep me steady while he inspects the damage. “He shot you.”
“It’s nothing.”
I hear the growl inside his chest over the battle raging on deck. “Is it over?”
I nod and rest my head on his chest, finally succumbing to his love for a few brief moments. His arms wrap around me protectively, but it’s his heartbeat that keeps me grounded.
I pull away and peer into his eyes. “I need to find Ivana.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
He takes my hand and, together, we make our way back on deck, stepping over bodies, and scanning faces for the people we care about.
A small army led by Leonid has converged on the ship, and by the time Finn and I reach the deck, they have wiped out the Petrov crew and sustained only a few minor casualties.
We find Connor and Aiden near the container, the reason why the Bratva docked at night to avoid unwanted interference.
Their biggest mistake was buying the port authority’s silence and trusting them not to be bought by another Bratva family who offered them more.
“You don’t have to do this.” Finn slides his arm around my shoulders and murmurs in my ear. “We can let them handle it.”
“No.” My voice is steady. “I want to do this.”
I must. For Ivana.
For me.
We all stand back as Aiden shoots the lock open, the sound of splintering metal carving slices out of the night air and making my heart skitter.
I hardly dare breathe as he opens the container door slowly.
My legs tremble; if Finn wasn’t supporting me, I would be watching this from the deck on my knees.
He is doing more than simply holding me up, he’s breathing for me, caring for me, loving me in every way imaginable even though I give nothing back.
The stench hits us first, and I turn away, retching onto the decking beneath my feet as graphic memories are rekindled. Finn doesn’t speak. He rubs my back in silent solidarity, letting me know that he is there for me when I’m ready.
Leonid joins us as Aiden and Connor shine flashlights into the container.
I meet his gaze briefly, and what I see in his eyes draws tears to mine.
He remembers the moment he discovered me and Ivana huddled together in a container just like this one, as vividly as I do.
It hurts him too. It probably hits him a million times harder now that he has daughters of his own.
Connor turns around to face us, struggling to contain the tears welling in his own eyes. “I… I don’t know…”
I push away from Finn, take the flashlight from Connor, and peer inside the container.
The sight makes my stomach roll. There are bodies everywhere, blue lips drawn back from shriveled gums, maggots crawling over rotting flesh, buzzing flies attracted to the stench.
This must’ve been what Leonid saw that day seventeen years ago when he opened the door to a container, not knowing what he would find inside.
If he’d turned around and walked away, Ivana and I wouldn’t have survived. We’d have been another statistic, victims of abhorrent child traffickers who don’t even remember the faces of the children whose lives they destroy.
“Tamara.” Leonid’s voice jolts me back to the present. “Here, let me.” He holds out his hand for the flashlight.